Changed
by lumaluma
Summary: A dreary summer day in 1975, right after the end of the Vietnam war, America pays an unexpected visit to England's house. A few unexpected things are revealed during this visit, and things will be forever changed afterwards. UKUS.


_This is just a little drabble I wrote a while ago when I was feeling rather frustrated and tired. It made me feel better to write it, and if you're feeling a bit down, I hope it makes you feel better as well._

* * *

Summer, 1975.

England looked out his window and sighed. It was raining, and had been all day. So much for doing any gardening. The clouds were dark grey, hovering oppressively overhead and letting out a steady downpour. It had started out as a light drizzle but had gotten progressively worse over the day.

England resigned himself to staying inside, and had curled up on the sofa with a blanket and a good book when he thought he heard someone knock on his door, a quiet, hesitant knocking.

Probably just the postman. England was too engrossed in his book to care, so he ignored it. He wasn't expecting anyone anyways. The knocking stopped, then resumed seconds later, this time much louder, as if someone was banging on his door with their fist.

He frowned, snapping his book shut and going to see who it was. "Coming, coming! There's no reason to break the door down!" He opened it, and when he saw America there, he sighed internally, figuring that he had just come to brag about some new computer or something like that. "What do you want, boy?"

When America didn't speak up right away, instead staring at his feet, England knew something wasn't right. He looked him up and down. America was drenched, his head was hung low, and his shoulders were slumped. Very different from his usual, confident, 'I'm the boss here' swagger. Almost like… _his_ America. The unsure, inexperienced boy England had raised.

He had been glaring at America, but his expression softened once the younger nation looked up at him, his eyes pleading with England for something. He looked lost. England stepped back and held the door open for him. "Well, don't just stand out there in the rain, come in."

"Thanks." America pushed his glasses up his nose and stepped inside.

"Here, take off your shoes. I'll take your jacket."

"Thanks."

"Do you want some tea? It's quite chilly out."

"Yes, please."

America being polite three times in a row? Something was definitely wrong. England frowned. "Is there something you need to tell me?" When America just shrugged, he scoffed. "Come on, spit it out. You're here for a reason, America."

The American sighed. "It's just that… I need your help. Not for anything political, either. I'm here as a person today, not as a country."

England nodded. "All right. Now let's get you out of those wet clothes. I'll run and get you a bathrobe, you can change in the bathroom."

America went to change, and England prepared some tea. When America appeared in the doorway to his living room, wrapped in England's largest, fluffiest bathrobe and a towel on his head, the older nation sat down and patted beside him on the sofa. "Here, sit down."

More than anything, America looked like he needed a pep talk and a hug, but England was terrible at pep talks and as for physical affection… that wasn't exactly an option for England. Not with America; he didn't want to get his hopes up about the boy. He didn't want his heart broken by him again. No, a hug was out of the question. But he would gladly listen to him and offer good, brotherly advice.

America sat down. "Thanks for letting me come here."

"It's no problem, really. What's bothering you?"

America sighed and ran a hand through his wet hair, knocking off the towel on his head. "I've been pretty down for a while, I dunno if you've noticed."

England pursed his lips, pouring them each a cup of tea. "Not really, no. You've seemed fairly normal at all the conferences."

"Yeah. I've been putting it on. A-list acting skills, right?"

If that was an attempt at a joke, England didn't laugh. "Why?"

"I don't want to seem weak or anything. It's just… since I lost the war, heck, since the war started, things haven't been so great. Everyone seems to hate me, even my own people."

England nodded. So that's what this was all about. America was feeling insecure. England picked up his tea and took a sip. "That's perfectly normal, America. Things will look up soon enough."

"But I've never really lost before! Well, not since against you and Canada. People are saying I'm losing my touch."

England shook his head. "And people are idiots, America. Don't worry. You can't win every war you fight, no matter how advanced your technologies are. It doesn't make you weak if you lose occasionally. Is that _really _all that's bothering you?"

America's shoulders slumped again. "I wish. You know how there's all this conflict that's been going on at my place, like with the hippies and the 'traditional values' stuff? It's like my people are trying to pull me in two opposite directions and I don't know what to do." He sighed. "And don't get me started on the Cold War. I mean, I'm not _that_ worried about Russia, even though he kinda does freak me out."

England didn't really know what to say, but he had to try something. "You know I've got your back in the Cold War."

"Yeah, I know." America picked up his teacup and stared into it. "But that's not what's making me upset. There's the two sides, the 'peace and love' and the 'nuke the commies' and I don't know what to do! People are looking to me to be a leader or some bullshit like that, but I don't know what to say. There's just all this change, and I don't know how to deal with it." America took a sip of his tea, and England drank some of his own.

He then sighed, shaking his head slowly. "America, listen. Things change all the time, whether they're very slow or very fast in doing so. There's nothing you can do about it. Remember how three years ago my people dragged me into the punk scene?"

America nodded. "Yeah, but…"

"You'll go through all sorts of phases. You've already been through quite a few in the short time you've been around."

"What do you mean?"

"Every nation has been through strange trends and fads, including you, and you just have to learn to ride the waves through it and make sure you don't lose yourself in the craze. After enough time, you start to forget when exactly all those phases happened. Hell, I can't remember whether my pirate years or my pantaloons years came first anymore."

America shifted a little on the couch. "I haven't forgotten anything yet."

"You're still young. Give it time. Of course, there are some things you never forget. For example, I haven't forgotten a single time I won a war against France, or even a battle for that matter." England chuckled to himself, shaking his head.

America put his teacup down, balling his hands into the bathrobe he was wearing. "Why do you always talk about him?"

"I beg your pardon?"

"France. You're always bringing him up."

England shrugged. "He's been my rival for centuries, America. He and I have fought over almost everything people can fight over. I had to fight him to get you, remember?"

"Yeah, I remember." America leaned on his hand, huffing a bit. "I don't see what's so great about him. I mean, he's just _France_."

England tilted his head, smiling a bit. "Don't tell me… you're jealous."

"Am not."

"America, you're feeling very self-conscious and unsure of yourself right now. It happens to every nation at least once, and trust me, you're far more prone to jealousy when you're feeling down."

"Not me."

"Yes, even you. But listen to me, America. You've got nothing to worry about. You're the strongest out there, and everyone wants to live on your side of the Atlantic. You've got all the movie stars, all the jobs, all the money, and the promise of the 'American dream'. If people are talking badly about you, it's because they're jealous, nothing more. And honestly, who wouldn't be?"

America cocked his head to one side. "Whaddya mean?"

England made a broad sweeping gesture with his hand. "Look at yourself objectively for a moment. You have plenty of reasons to have the self-confidence you normally do. America, so many people and countries have fallen for you over the years that I can't even begin to name them all."

"Really?"

"Really."

America rubbed the back of his neck, blushing. "Man… I had no idea." Apparently his usual cockiness had worn away so much that he wasn't even able to accept compliments in stride like he normally would. It was cute, England decided, trying to peer at him from the corner of his eye.

His mouth decided to keep running for some reason, before his mind could really catch up to. "Don't sound so surprised. You have to know you're more attractive than most. Come to think of it, even I've-"

He cut himself off with a cough, realizing what he was about to say: _Come to think of it, even I've fallen for you. I've been in love with you for two hundred years._

He hoped America wasn't really paying attention. No such luck. America, in his insecure mindset, was unfortunately much more perceptive than usual. "You've what?"

"Nothing. I just had a slip of the tongue, that's all." England quickly took another sip of his tea.

"England…"

"What?"

"What were you going to say?"

"It's not important." It was very important, actually, but he didn't want to confirm that his feelings were one-sided.

"If you're not gonna tell me, then I know it's important."

England sighed. "_Someone_ seems to be feeling better. Shouldn't you be going?"

"But it's still raining out there! And my clothes are wet."

England had been trying to ignore the small patch of America's chest visible where the two sides of the bathrobe came together, but when America leaned back into the sofa and crossed his arms petulantly, he couldn't tear his eyes away. He'd seen America shirtless countless times before, so why was this affecting him so much?

"Well, I can always lend you some clothes."

"I dunno if you've noticed, but I'm kind of bigger than you."

"I _had_ noticed, actually." America frowned at that, looking rather hurt, and England sighed. From one insecurity to another… he guessed that America wasn't feeling better after all. "I didn't mean it like that, you know."

"Sure you didn't."

England placed his hand on America's arm, speaking softly to him. "I really didn't." _I think you're perfect just as you are._

America relaxed suddenly, leaning into his touch, and England blinked several times. He hadn't noticed how tense the other nation was until then. So he rubbed his hand gently up and down, smiling slightly when America glanced his way.

"Hey, England?"

"Yes?"

"Can I have a hug?"

Well, so much for no physical affection. England couldn't refuse him, either, not when he looked at him so pleadingly, like he might cry if England didn't embrace him.

England just nodded, held his arms open, then squawked when America practically tackled him, wrapping his arms tightly around him and burying his face into England's chest. England sighed, putting one hand on America's back and softly stroking his hair with his other hand.

He felt America shaking a bit and was about to let him go and ask what was wrong, when he felt the front of his shirt growing damp. Oh. America was crying.

England held him tighter, swaying back and forth a bit and whispering, "Shh now, America. It's all right."

He didn't get much of a reply, just America holding onto him like his life depended on it. Eventually, America's breathing slowed, his eyes closed, and his head tilted back a little. England sighed. of all the places to fall asleep, America just had to choose halfway on his lap. He decided to just let the poor boy sleep it off, still holding him upright.

England cradled America's head to his chest, smiling a little wistfully. This felt so nostalgic, it felt just like the times America would have a nightmare and run to him for comfort. Or the times he was sick and England would nurse him back to health, holding him and rocking him back and forth until America felt better.

When exactly America had morphed from being his little brother into the man England loved, he wasn't sure. But he knew that he loved both Americas, though in very different ways. Maybe if the Revolutionary War hadn't happened, they wouldn't be having this moment. Maybe England's feelings towards his ex-colony wouldn't have changed.

He brushed America's bangs out of his face and removed his glasses, setting them on the coffee table and kissing him on the forehead. "Maybe it was for the best after all," he whispered, more to himself than anything. He ran a hair through America's hair again, smiling when the sleeping man stirred a bit. "I remember when I would sing you to sleep. Why you liked it, I'll never know, but it was certainly very flattering," he murmured.

England felt rather drowsy himself. The soft sound of the rain on the roof, America's warm body against him, the reminiscing, it was all putting him to sleep. Just as he was dozing off, however, America woke up.

He sat up a bit, blinking a few times. "Mmh… sorry, didn't mean to fall asleep on you. Literally, on you." America blushed, his cheeks just a tad pink, and England assumed it was out of embarrassment .

"It's quite all right. You probably needed the rest anyways." England didn't release America, keeping him pulled tight against his chest. America made to pull away, and suddenly England didn't want to let him go. He kept his hand on the back of America's head, trying to keep him close.

Why the idea of letting America go was so unappealing to him, he didn't know, but he wasn't going to let it happen. But instead of asking questions or just yanking himself away from England, America just nestled back against him. England was grateful, but didn't say anything. He didn't think he really needed to, anyways.

England just stroked America's hair and rubbed his back slowly, remembering the past. He never thought that just being physically close to America would dredge up so many emotions he thought he had buried, but there he was: close to tears just from holding his ex-colony practically in his lap.

He loved America, there was no denying it, but this nearly broke his heart all over again. It seemed that the younger nation still just saw him as an older brother, or why would he come to England for advice? It hurt to think about that, but England couldn't really see it any other way.

He sighed, leaning down and pressing a kiss to the top of America's head. "I love you," he whispered, unable to stop himself.

America stiffened suddenly, and England realized he must have heard that. He let go of America and shoved him away, panicking. "You should probably go now."

America picked his glasses up and put them on, his eyes wide. "England, you-"

"I didn't say anything! Please, just go."

"No." America took one of his hands. "I'm not going until you tell me what you meant by that."

"Meant by what? I don't know what you're talking about." A blatant lie, but England didn't want to have his heart broken. Not again.

"England, I heard what you said."

"That's… I mean…" England trailed off, feeling himself blush. America looked at him expectantly, and he bit his lip. "You heard what I said, you figure it out."

"Well, did you mean 'I love you' as in 'I love you like family' or something else?"

England licked his lips. "Um… that's a difficult question. Since neither of us have ever had families, how can we say what loving someone like family is? Anyways, I-"

"England." America looked him dead in the eyes, so serious that England caved.

He sighed. "I meant that I'm in love with you, America. I have been for years. Centuries, even." America looked surprised but didn't say anything. England cleared his throat, mistaking the silence for rejection. "I understand if you don't want to see me anymore. After all, I-"

"No!" America practically yelled it, so England raised an eyebrow at him. He blushed. "I mean, it's not just you. I've loved you forever, pretty much. That's why I came here today. You're pretty much the only guy in this world I really trust, and if you weren't here for me, I don't know what I'd do."

England couldn't think of anything to say, but since America was still holding his hand, he gave America's hand a reassuring squeeze. America sighed. "I'm happy you don't treat me like a little kid anymore. Hell, that's the whole reason I fought you in the first place. I wanted to be more than just your little brother, you know?" England nodded. He realized that America was right, that he had treated him like a foolish child until America began to rebel, that it was only after America started fighting him that he started to treat him like an adult. That was also when he first fell in love with America.

Then he was struck with an idea. It was crazy, but maybe it would work. He put his hand under America's chin, tilting his head until they were eye-to-eye. "Do you still want to be more than my brother?"

"Yeah. Do you? I mean, do you want that too?"

He leaned in, kissing America gently. America froze for a second, then relaxed, placing his hands on England's arms and kissing back. When they pulled apart to breathe, England asked, "Does that answer your question?"

"Yeah."

America pulled him into another kiss, and England let his hand drop from America's chin, instead resting his hands on America's hips and squeezing gently. He deepened the kiss, pressing his tongue to America's lips, asking for entrance.

America let him in with a quiet moan, and England coaxed his tongue to tangle with his own, which made both of them shiver with pleasure. Never before had a kiss gotten England this worked up, but he didn't mind. It felt so damn _good_.

He could feel America's breath hitch in his throat, and he stroked his hands up and down his sides, loving the warmth America gave off. America pulled away suddenly, putting his arms over his stomach. "Don't."

"Am I going too fast?"

"No, I just…" America trailed off with a quiet huff. "I don't like it when people touch me there."

England nodded, resting his hands on America's legs instead and leaning their foreheads together. "Whatever you want, America."

America nodded and kissed him again, keeping his arms folded in front of him. England squeezed his legs a bit, leaning his weight on them as the kiss turned more passionate, their tongues mingling as they explored each other's mouths.

Neither of them noticed that America was spreading his legs subconsciously until England nearly fell over, catching himself on the nearest available thing. One of his hands grabbed America's shoulder, holding himself up, and his other hand landed right in America's lap.

England discovered he wasn't the only one turned on just by kissing, and both of them blushed. "Do you want to…?"

"Yeah." America stood up, pulling the bathrobe tightly around himself again. He held a hand out to England. "How about you show me where your room is?"

England took him there as quickly as he dared, opening the door and then hesitating. "Are you sure?"

"I'm sure."

"I don't want you to regret anything later."

America shook his head. "I'm pretty sure the only thing I'd regret doing is not going in there with you."

That was all the answer England needed, so he pulled America into the room and closed the door behind them. They stood by the bed for a moment, neither of them daring to look each other in the eye. England decided, what the hell, someone would have to make the first move, so he slipped his belt out of his pants and tossed it to the floor.

When America raised his eyebrows, England shrugged. "If we're doing this the proper way, both of us will have to be naked."

"Right." America undid the bathrobe, letting it fall open.

England took off his shirt, looking America up and down. He was only in his underwear beneath the bathrobe, and looking very pink-faced and embarrassed about it at that. England sighed and shook his head. "Love, there's no reason to be embarrassed. It's just me."

Of course, he hadn't seen America naked since the boy was young enough to need help with his baths, but he figured that didn't really count for anything. It seemed to work, though, and America dropped the bathrobe onto the ground, his face a little less red.

England shimmied out of his pants, sat in the middle of the bed, and crooked a finger at America. "Come here, love." America stepped forward, sitting next to him, and England stroked his cheek. "Are you sure about this?"

"I'm sure."

"All right then." England kissed him again, waiting for America to make the next move.

It came as a hand on the back of England's head, pulling him even closer. England put a hand on America's leg, slipping inwards a little bit, just enough to make America spread his legs a little wider. He slipped his fingers up America's boxers, stroking his skin and smiling when he felt him shiver a little.

He crawled onto America's lap, pushing him down onto the bed with one hand and pulling down his underwear with the other. America pulled his own down, biting his lip as he looked England up and down.

England wasn't exactly sure what the look in his eyes meant, but he thought he saw a bit of anxiety there, so he stopped, sitting up abruptly. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing." America put his hands on England's hips. "You're just… really sexy when you're naked."

England put his hands on America's shoulders, looking him up and down. "So are you, my dear."

"You really think so? You don't think I'm fat or ugly or-"

"America." The younger nation stopped talking, letting England take his chin in one hand. "The only way you could be more beautiful than you are right now is if you were smiling."

America blushed, turning a lovely shade of pink, and smiled a little at England, who promptly forgot how to breathe; the way America's eyes positively sparkled caused his brain to freeze up. Then he whispered, "There you go," and leaned forward, kissing America soundly, his hands travelling to America's waist before he could stop himself.

This time, America just kissed back harder, letting England's hands roam over his bare sides and stomach. He rested his hands on England's thighs for a moment, then reached forward and grasped his cock, rubbing his thumb over the head.

England bit his lip, bucking forward slightly. "A-ah… America…" England steadied himself, putting his hands on America's shoulders, letting his eyes flutter shut as America pumped him slowly, feeling warmth spread through his entire body.

He slid a hand down, wrapping it around America's erection and opening his eyes as much as he could when America moaned softly. The younger nation's eyes had dropped to half-mast, but he was watching England like his very life depended on it.

Despite how good it felt to have America take him in hand like that, it wasn't enough. And England somehow knew that if he wanted this to go any further, he would have to be the one to take charge. So he leaned in and kissed America once, then crawled off of him, reaching into his bedside table.

"What're you-" England held up a jar of vaseline, and America blushed. "Oh. Right."

"Is this okay? I'm not going to push you any further than you're comfortable with."

"No, this is… it's okay. I want this."

"All right then." England climbed back on top of America, his knees on either side of him and hovering just inches above him. "Tell me, how do you want to do this? I'm fine either way." When America blushed and mumbled something very softly, England smiled. "Really, love, you need to speak up."

"I said, I've only done this once before."

"Ah, I see." That was a bit surprising to England, but he just shrugged it off. "Would you rather I take charge?"

"Yeah."

England kissed him, spreading America's legs and positioning himself between them as he did so. He took the lid off the jar and spread some on his fingers, bringing them forward to stroke along America's entrance slowly.

Almost as soon as England's fingers touched him, America gasped and grabbed his arm. "England, please…"

England kissed his forehead. "I know." He slipped a finger inside and wrapped his other hand around America's cock, watching his face carefully.

America, who had tensed up when England's finger first entered him, relaxed, and England watched as his expression went from slightly pained to calm as it was starting to feel good. But he still hadn't found _that_ spot yet, so he slid another finger inside, stroking America's cock a little harder to distract him from the stretch.

He crooked his fingers, feeling around a bit and smiling to himself when America suddenly gasped and bucked down onto his fingers. "Ohh… right there!"

There it was. England concentrated on that spot as he started spreading his fingers, stretching America out slowly. When America nodded at him, he added another finger, thrusting them in and out slowly, starting to feel a little desperate. America was so warm, soft, and tight around his fingers, and he wanted so badly to bury himself deep inside of him. The soft moans spilling from America's mouth really weren't helping.

But he waited, wanting America to want it as much as he did, to _need_ it as much as he did. And when America started positively squirming under England, his moans slowly increasing in volume, England's cock throbbed with need. He kissed America, open-mouthed and sloppy, tangling their tongues together and speeding up the movement of his fingers.

America pulled England down so he was practically laying right on top of him, breaking the kiss for a moment to whisper breathlessly, "I need it. God, I need you so bad."

"I know. Just a moment." England pulled his fingers out and lubed himself up, letting out a quiet groan as he rubbed more of the slick substance on himself. America spread his legs wider at that, and England had to bite back a moan at the sight of America naked, flushed, and ready for him.

He grasped America's legs right below his knees, and lifted them, lining himself up with his entrance. America's eyes fluttered shut for a moment when the head of England's erection pressed against him, and he bit his lip. "O-oh… England…"

England leaned forward, kissing his forehead as he pushed inside. It was every bit as wonderful as he had hoped, the way America's passage squeezed him, how hot he was inside, almost searing him in the most amazing way.

America's eyebrows scrunched up a bit, so England paused, waiting for him to relax before pushing himself in the rest of the way. Almost as soon as he was completely sheathed in that hot, slick cavern, America grasped his arms. "Move."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah."

England didn't need any more convincing, starting a slow rocking rhythm, pulling out and thrusting back in, feeling almost like he was being pulled back in by America. America's mouth was open in a silent moan, his breath catching in his throat every time England slid back inside him. England shifted a bit, changing his angle, and suddenly America cried out, his eyes flying open and his nails digging into England's arms.

He got even tighter, and England had to stop moving, shaking and moaning. "Oh… America, you…"

"Don't stop! Please, move, I need—ah!"

England picked up his pace again, moving faster and deeper than before, moving his head down to suck and nip at America's neck, marking him with love bites.

"Ahn! England, you… that's…"

One of America's hands tangled in his hair, tugging slightly, but England didn't mind. It actually heightened his arousal and he lifted his head up to moan, "Oh, America… so good."

"Y-yeah… don't stop!"

"Love, I d-don't think I could – ah! – even if I wanted to."

America started shaking a bit, and England could tell he was almost at the end of his tether. He put his mouth right next to America's ear, kissing him there, and whispered, "You're perfect. So beautiful, so strong, exactly what I've always wanted. I love you."

America trembled then, moaning England's name, and England felt him come, spurts of white covering them both. America tightened even further around him, pulling him even deeper, urging him to come.

England couldn't hold on any longer, pushing himself as deep as he could and letting go, filling America with everything he had. America sighed, the hand in England's hair loosening its grip a bit, and tugging England's head up into a kiss, slow and soft.

England stroked the side of America's face gently, sighing happily. He rolled off him to one side, slipping out of America. He snuggled up to him. "I love you."

"I love you too." America's arms wrapped around him, and he sighed. "Did you really mean it?"

"Hm?"

"What you said earlier."

"That you're perfect? Yes, I meant it. To me, no matter what's happened, you've always been perfect."

"So you don't care if I'm lazy or stupid or anything?" America wouldn't quite meet his eyes.

England sat up a bit. "You're none of those things, my sweet. And even if you were, I wouldn't care."

America blushed, taking England's hand and squeezing it. "Thanks."

"No need to thank me. I'm just telling you the truth." He kissed America on the cheek again, then thought of something. "You said you've done this once before. Do you mind telling me who with?"

"Canada," America mumbled, picking a pillow up off the bed and squeezing it to his chest. "A really long time ago. We were both curious. It didn't mean anything."

"Ah, I see." England shrugged. America looked at him expectantly, and England cleared his throat. "I've… well, I'm very old, as you know, so…"

"Yeah. I get it." America kissed him, his hands landing on England's hips. "But from now on, just with me, okay?"

"Of course, my dear." England cast a glance out the window and tsked. "Well, it's still raining. I suppose you'll just have to stay the night."

America looked outside. "Yeah, it's really coming down out there. How about we just stay here for a while, and if it's still raining pretty bad later, we can just whip up something quick for dinner and watch a movie?"

"That sounds delightful." England kissed America on the nose, smiling at him. "I love you."

"I love you too."

They cuddled together, slipping under the blankets and holding each other close, smiling at each other. "Stupid rain keeping me here."

"Stupid rain indeed."

It was barely drizzling outside.

* * *

_Thanks for reading! Drop a review if you like, let me know what you thought._


End file.
